


The Stars, My Solace

by SamanthaStarbreaker



Series: Trans Kirk Stories [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Trans Female Character, Trans James T. Kirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaStarbreaker/pseuds/SamanthaStarbreaker
Summary: The lives of trillions of people were affected by Nero's hop through time. This is the story of James T. Kirk and her journey to find her place among the stars. A reimagining of the 2009 Star Trek reboot.





	1. Two Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the course of the universe is forever changed.

It is a given, in this universe of precisely modeled laws, that matter and energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It is also a given that for every action, there must be an equal and opposite reaction. Every day, a star somewhere in the galaxy dies, in a violent burst of energy and light. Similarly, every day, billions of creatures are born. This particular day, a Thursday in what the people of the planet Earth called the year 2233, was no exception. On this day, more people were born than anyone could count. Two of them, however, are of special interest.

The home of Sarek was larger than would be strictly logical for a man and his wife to inhabit. It lay on the outskirts of a city, overlooking the vast desert plains of the planet Vulcan. Past this home's lavish gardens, a woman's screams could be heard. Attended by the finest midwives ever trained by the Vulcan Academy of Sciences, a child was being born. This birth was different from any these fine midwives and physicians had ever seen; this child was different. Sarek, the ambassador of the Vulcans to the planet Earth, had taken a wife from that planet, and with his human wife, had conceived a child. No such child had ever been born, to the knowledge of the Vulcans. This was widely considered foolish, and illogical; the child would not be able to live with its parents' physiology so different from one another. 

This child, however, was strong. Born a healthy baby boy, the physician handed the son of Sarek to his mother with a mixture of curiosity and awe. "Spock," whispered Amanda Grayson. "His name is Spock." The Vulcan Science Academy did not train its graduates to believe in miracles; supernatural intervention was not only impossible, but unnecessary. What the doctors of Earth would have called a miracle, thus, was called an improbability. Amanda, however, was no Vulcan. She believed in miracles, and wondered through her joy if anyone else could ever feel this happy.

Light-years away, in a different sector of the galaxy, the USS Kelvin was on a routine Starfleet patrol. The Kelvin was a venerable ship, one of Starfleet's old reliables. The crewmen were family, the missions exciting, and the attitudes optimistic. Today, one of the science officers noticed on their scanners an odd electrical phenomenon, like a thunderstorm, with no atmosphere. This was passed around in hushed tones, and made its way to the bridge, where it was dutifully reported back to Starfleet headquarters. 

"USS Kelvin to Starfleet Base, are you seeing this?"  
"Copy, Kelvin. That doesn't seem possible."  
"Roger that, Fleet, that's why we're sending it to you."

As the crew of the Kelvin gawked and studied this phenomenon intensely, they were shaken out of their reverie by the emergence of a large object from the lightning. It was fascinating; it was sharp, serrated, like a collection of ceremonial blades wrapped around a teardrop-shaped core. It was also launching weapons at them. Their shields came up automatically, but not quite in time for the first salvo of powerful projectiles. Three of these objects hit the hull of the Kelvin; three hull breaches were formed; three compartments full of people were vented to space. The crew of the Kelvin immediately set about defending themselves. Gun crews manned their phaser turrets, trying to shoot down incoming missiles. Engineers tried to reroute power from less important things to boost the shields. Medics scattered about the ship, making sure as many as possible were attended to and saved. 

Another salvo hit the Kelvin, and fifty more souls were extinguished. Everyone on board braced for the worst, as they knew the ship couldn't handle much more. The attacks, however, ceased as quickly as they'd started. The communications officer yelled across the now darkened, chaotic bridge, "Captain! They're hailing us!" Captain Robau of the USS Kelvin was not the type of man to take unnecessary risks. He would surrender to protect the lives of his crew. "On screen."

As their foe's visage appeared on the screens in front of the Kelvin's crew, it was a Romulan man, and he had only one demand. "Your captain will come aboard the Narada for negotiations, by shuttlecraft. Your refusal to do so would be … unwise." The signal winked out, and the captain immediately got out of his chair and walked towards the lift. "Mr. Kirk, walk with me," he calmly told his first officer. Kirk complied.

"Captain, you can't go over there, they'll kill you!"  
"I know. Wait fifteen minutes for my signal, then evacuate the ship."  
"At least take someone else with you, Captain."  
"You're the captain now, Mr. Kirk."

With those words, the two parted. Captain Robau got into a shuttlecraft, and calmly piloted it towards the enemy ship. George Kirk sat in the captain's chair, and had the science officer pull up their captain's vital signs on the display. The entire crew tensed up as the shuttle entered the Narada's cargo hold, as it landed, and Captain Robau got out. He was quickly escorted by a burly guard to the Narada's bridge, and the Kelvin crew noticed his heart rate increase. The same man who'd contacted them earlier got right to the point: pulling out a hologram of an old Vulcan Robau didn't recognize, he asked "Where is Ambassador Spock?" Robau replied honestly, "I'm not familiar with an Ambassador Spock." The Romulan looked confused. Robau looked past him, to the person on the chair who he assumed was the captain, and informed him that he was committing an act of war by assailing a Federation starship. The other Romulan continued to interrogate him. "What is today's stardate?" Robau was the one confused this time, as he calmly replied "2233.04." At this, the Romulan captain finally stirred, grabbed his spear, and plunged it through Robau's heart.

The Kelvin crew saw "SIGNAL LOST" in bright red letters on the display of their captain's vital signs, and the enemy ship resumed its barrages of high-explosive projectiles. They could not defend themselves against such an onslaught, so George did what his captain had told him; he sounded the evacuation. Every crew member still remaining ran to the shuttlebay, to their assigned evacuation shuttles, and George commed his very pregnant wife. "You there, Winona? We're evacuating; the medical staff will take you to the shuttle, and I'll be right there with you."  
"George, the baby's coming! Our son is coming!"

For a moment, George's mind forgot he was staring down death, and realized he was a father now. That moment quickly passed as he set the autopilot to ram the other ship, and was told by the computer that autopilot functionality had been damaged. Someone would have to pilot the ship, to save the crew, and he was the captain now.  
"Winona, I'm sorry. I'm not going to make it."  
"George? What are you saying?"  
George told the pilot of Winona's medical shuttle to take off without him, that was an order, and the pilot did. 

"Push, just breathe," said the alien nurse, as Winona gave birth to her son.  
Phasers and torpedoes flying gave way to the birth of a baby boy in George and Winona's mind.  
She said, "You should be here, George, damn it, you should be here to see your son."  
George had strapped in, started the engines, and set his course, and he said "A baby boy! What are we naming him? "  
Winona replied calmly, like her husband wasn't about to die. "We could name him after your father."  
"What, Tiberius? That's the worst! No, name him after your dad. Let's call him Jim."  
"Jim," said Winona, holding her baby, with a smile.  
"Sweetheart, can you hear me?"  
"I hear you."  
"I love you. I love you. I lo-"  
The last part of that word was lost, along with George Kirk and the USS Kelvin. With a bright flash, the antimatter at the heart of the Kelvin's engines exploded, and it disabled the enemy ship just long enough for the evacuation shuttles to warp away.  
Winona had lost George, and gained a son. Her boy was quiet, but she thought that would be okay. She was doing enough crying for both of them. Her husband had bought her a miracle, with his life.


	2. Juvenile Delinquency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim and Spock are troublemakers.

Chapter 2

Stardate 2244.43

Jim Kirk was bored. To anyone on the outside, this would not have looked unusual; Jim always looked bored. For most of his life, he'd just followed what people told him to do, just sat back in the pilot seat of the vehicle that was Jim Kirk and kept it on auto. He coasted through school easily, getting top marks, but made no friends. The boys thought he was weird, and the girls didn't want to play with him anymore. He would lose himself in books, sitting on the roof of some grain elevator, or the hood of a car, or simply watch the starships being constructed out at the shipyard. He always looked bored. Today, however, was a rare occasion. Today, Jim Kirk felt bored. This was one of the moments when he wasn't a pilot, driving himself like a large, unwieldy vehicle. He was James Tiberius Kirk, and damn it, he was going to do something. He was going to steal Frank's Corvette, drive it, and feel the wind in his hair.

Spock got every answer correct. He always had, and he always would. His academic performance was top notch; he would be among the Academy's finest graduates one day. That is, if his classmates didn't find a way to sabotage him. As he stepped out of the examination booth, he was confronted by the usual suspects. He asked calmly, flatly as he'd been trained to, "I presume you have prepared new insults for today?" "Affirmative," replied the bullies. "You are neither fully Vulcan, nor fully human, and thus have no place." Spock ceased listening, determined to let their words slide over him until they ran out of insults. Unfortunately, one of their words caught his attention and dragged him back. "He's a traitor, you know. Your father. For marrying that human whore." At this, Spock lost his tuned emotional control, and grabbed the person who'd said those words. He lifted them over his head, threw them into the examination booth, jumped on top of them, and kept hitting their face until he was dragged away by an instructor.

Jim felt the rush. The adrenaline pumped through his veins, sang in his head. This was the best moment of his life. Frank called him on the car's communicator, yelled at him for taking the car. He hung up, and played his music, and grabbed the levers to take the top down. The wind caught the fabric, tore the top away from the car. Whoops, Jim thought, oh well. It wasn't as if he expected to make it back home to be yelled at about it anyway. He passed one of the kids from his class, and yelled out "Hey, Johnny!" to him as he sped by. That was when he heard the sound of a police bike behind him, chasing him.

The cop pulled up, and said to him, "Citizen! Pull over!" Jim would be damned if this was how this day ended, so he took the next right, onto a dirt trail that had warning signs on it. He suddenly realized why those signs were there, as the ground in front of him abruptly ended. He yelled in time with the music, and thought this would be a good way to get it over with. As the cliff got closer, he began to think that maybe he should live, and he slammed on his brakes, put the car into a drift, and jumped out the door. He barely caught the cliff's edge, and the car was long gone. He almost lost his footing, but managed to climb up, and right in front of him, the cop dismounted their bike, and said, "Citizen. What is your name?" Jim defiantly responded. "I'm James Tiberius Kirk."

Stardate 2255.68

"Spock."  
"Spock, come here. Let your mother see you." He really did not understand why she insisted on preening over him like this, but being her son, he supposed that he had a duty to comply. "You look good, Spock, don't worry. You'll be fine." "I am not worried, Mother, and fine is unacceptable. Fine has many definitions, fine simply will not do." She reached out and fixed her son's collar, in the fashion of parents since time immemorial. He locked eyes with her, and opened his mouth to speak once more. "May I ask you a personal question?" "Of course, Spock. Anything." "Should I choose to complete the Vulcan discipline of Kohlinahr, and purge all emotion? I trust you will not feel it reflects judgement upon you." She looked back at him with pride behind her eyes, and said, "As always, Spock, whichever path you decide to take, whoever you choose to be, you'll have a proud mother." Their eyes didn't break the gaze for a good few minutes.  
A bell rang, and Spock walked into the Council chamber.

Jim looked up from his welding. He was bored again. Usually, the emptiness came after he'd already finished a project, not in the middle of one. He had to admit, though, this one was fairly uninspired. A satirical statue of Zephram Cochrane, made up of meticulously stolen traffic signage from all over Iowa, was not his best idea ever. He thought, for the thousandth time, that it would have been so much easier if he was a girl. They all seemed so happy, like they had some secret he didn't. And they made better art. Oh, well, he thought, life could always be worse; he could be going to his court mandated therapy. This was all the therapy he needed: making his mark on the world. They'd not soon forget the name of James T. Kirk. He put his mask back on, and got back to work.

Spock stood in front of the Vulcan High Council, who would decide if he merited admission into the Vulcan Science Academy, the most prestigious school in the world. As the council sat down, they looked at him with curiosity, like a scientist observing an experiment. The science minister spoke. "Spock, you have exceeded all the expectations of your instructors; your record is flawless, but for one exception: I see you have applied to Starfleet as well."

Spock replied calmly, "It is logical to cultivate multiple options."

"Logical, but unnecessary. It is the decision of this council that you be admitted to the Vulcan Academy of Sciences. It is remarkable, Spock, that you have done so well, despite your disadvantage." 

Spock's pointed ears perked up at that last word, and he knew that he would be making an impulsive decision here today, something he had thought he would never do again. He glanced at his father, whose eyes were narrowed as if to warn him, and asked the science minister, "To what disadvantage are you referring?"

"Your human mother," said the minister, getting up as if to leave. Spock said immediately, "Ministers, I must respectfully decline."

"No Vulcan has ever refused admission into the Academy."

"Then as I am half human, your record remains untarnished."

"Why did you come here today? Was it to satisfy your emotional need to rebel?"

Spock did not feel the sting of the minister's words, intended as they always were to provoke his human side. He stood up a little taller, noticed his father's eyes go from warning to approval, as he said, "The only emotion I wish to convey is gratitude. Thank you, ministers, for your consideration." He made the ta'al as he began to turn around, and said the traditional Vulcan farewell: "Live long and prosper." Spock could not help himself, and added a small amount of spite into that final sentence.

Jim had finished his work; Cochrane stood in a field just outside town, the water sprinkling out from the statue's pelvis onto the field below. It was amazing; he had half an urge to burst out laughing. He still felt hollow, though, his amusement at his art somehow false. Maybe this was just how it was. Maybe his life would just be a series of little disappointments. Jim knew that this wasn't right, but it wasn't as if it was really his life anyway. Someone else had written the script, and he was just reading his lines. God, what a bummer. Jim needed a drink.


	3. Repeat Offender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim decides to enlist.

Chapter 3

There were plenty of bars for Jim to go drinking at. It was Iowa, after all. He liked the one by the shipyards, though. It was close to his workshop, had a great view of the starships being built, and most importantly, it was always full of strangers. They were different every time; cadets rotating through, advisors on the construction, and visitors touring the shipyards. He didn't ever have to worry about them. He just walked in, ordered his drink, and sat down at the bar, enjoying the sensations as they washed over him. Light, color, sound, smell, the taste of piss-coloured lager, it was an almost religious experience for Jim. As he got a beer in him, and another, the static in his nerves calmed down. Alcohol always grounded him, made his reality feel a little more real. He knew that was probably a bad sign, but as long as he kept himself under control, he wouldn't have a problem with it. 

A beautiful woman walked in as Jim was finishing his second drink, and she turned all the heads in the establishment, including his. Damn, he wished he could be half as stunning as she was. She sat near him, and ordered what must have been half the menu. He knew what he had to do, and slipped back into autopilot, giving her a suave half grin, and ending her order with "… and 2 shots of Jack, hers is on me."  
"Hers is on her," said the girl, "thanks, but no thanks."  
"That's a lot of drinks for one woman. Jim Kirk, by the way."  
She didn't respond, and that non-response was just another move in the chess game Jim was playing. He knew she really didn't want him flirting with her, and it's not like he really wanted to be flirting with her. That's just how it had to be. Boys flirted with girls at bars. He was a boy, right? He had to play the chess game.  
"If you don't tell me your name, I'll have to make one up for you," he said, taking a gambit.  
She looked somewhat amused, and replied, "It's Uhura."  
He pretended to be surprised, and said "Uhura? No way! That's the name I was gonna make up for you! Uhura what?"  
"Just Uhura."  
"They don't have last names in your world?"  
"Uhura is my last name."  
"They don't have first names in your world?"  
Uhura shook her head, grinning despite herself. Jim took the opportunity to slide in closer.  
"So, Uhura, you're a Cadet, studying in Starfleet, what's your focus?"  
"Xenolinguistics. You have no idea what that means."  
Women always underestimated Jim. That made sense to him; he didn't at all look like a person worth taking seriously. He actually looked rather awful, all things considered. He was a man, and men weren't really good looking. He did, however, know what xenolinguistics was.  
"You study alien languages. Morphology, phonology, syntax. Means you've got a talented tongue."  
"Huh. I thought you were a dumb hick who only had sex with farm animals."  
He laughed, and this laugh was genuine. "Well, not only."  
At this, a large cadet, easily six centimeters taller than Kirk, walked up and asked Uhura, "He bothering you?"  
She replied, "Beyond belief, but it's nothing I can't handle."  
Kirk automatically chipped in, "You can handle me."  
The large cadet looked at him, disapprovingly, and Kirk knew what had to happen next. This was the part where the men did their machismo, dick-measuring thing, right? Some sort of archaic, contest of wills sort of ritual. He didn't ever understand it. It was, however, the way things were done, and so Jim started it off. He put his hand on the cadet's shoulder and said, "At ease, cupcake. She said she's fine."  
The cadet, as expected, bristled. "What did you call me? You know there's five of us, and one of you."  
Jim knew there was no way this ended well. "So get some more guys, and it'll be a fair fight." The cadet slugged him in the face, and he hit back. Another cadet hit him, and he kicked that one back. The first cadet got a hard hit on him, staggering him, and he ran right into Uhura, his hands on her bust. He grinned, and the adrenaline sang in his head again. It seemed to him the only time he felt alive was when he was about to die. As two cadets grabbed him and held him down, the one he'd called "cupcake" raised his fist and hit him. Again. Again. Jim started to fade out, but the hitting stopped as he was jolted back by a sharp whistle. All the cadets dropped him, and snapped to attention, as an older man's voice yelled "Everybody, out!" The cadets and most of the civilians filed out quickly, and the man walked over, reached down, and said, "You okay, son? I'm Captain Christopher Pike."

Jim got tissues in his nose to stop the bleeding, another beer to stop the pain, and sat down. He played with a salt shaker that looked like a starship, and the older man sat down across from him. "I couldn't believe it, you know, when they told me who you were."  
"Who am I?" asked Jim, with his trademark aloofness.  
"Your father's son. I did my dissertation on the Kelvin." Jim bristled at being referred to like that. He didn't know why, but he'd always hated being called George Kirk's son, or "the Kirk boy". Pike continued, "He didn't believe in no-win scenarios, your father."  
"Sure learned his lesson, didn't he?"  
"Depends on how you define it. You're here, aren't you? I'd call that one a win."  
Jim knew that the man across from him could never understand. He stayed silent, and let Pike keep going.  
"It's something Starfleet's lost, in my opinion. That sense of leaping before you look, that foolhardiness. Oh, we've got fine young recruits, those you met tonight among them, but I wouldn't want any of them on the bridge of a starship." Jim continued to remain silent. "I read your file, you know. Your aptitudes were off the charts. All of them. Haven't you ever thought you could do something better?" Jim remained sullen. "What is it, do you *like* being the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest?"  
"Maybe I love it."  
Pike looked at him, seeing something in Kirk's eyes. "Enlist in Starfleet."  
Kirk laughed. "Enlist--?! God, you must really be down on your recruiting quota."  
"You could be great, Jim. 4 years at the Academy, you could be on a starship bridge in 3 more, and have your own ship in another year or two after that."  
Jim asked the bartender for another beer.  
Pike, not quite ready to give up, looked Jim in the eye and said, "Your father was captain of a starship for 12 minutes. He saved 1200 lives, including your mother's and yours. I dare you to do better." He turned to walk away, and said "Riverside shipyards, 8 am." 

Jim left after finishing his beer. He took the long way around, and stopped for a minute to stare at the starship being built in the drydock. The hull plates were starting to take shape, and he could make out the markings on one of the warp nacelles: NCC-1701. He'd probably scratched his initials into at least half of those hull plates. Maybe Pike was right, and Starfleet was the life he should have been trying for this whole time. And if not, there were seemingly infinite possibilities to stave off the emptiness. Jim realized, with a start, that he'd already decided. Shame about the motorcycle, though; he'd really miss his baby.

In the morning, he showed up at Riverside shipyards, at 8 am, precisely as requested. Pike was there too, and looked quite surprised about it. As Jim pulled up, one of the dockworkers called out to him, "Nice bike!" Jim laughed rather awkwardly, said "It's yours," and threw the keys to the dockworker. "Take care of it." He turned his attention to Captain Pike, and said "Four years? I'll do it in three." He continued his swaggering walk, as if he owned the place, right into a very clearly marked ceiling strut. Seeing the cadets who'd fought him in the bar strapped into their seats, he gave them a mocking salute and said "At ease, gentlemen." He also saw Uhura, to which he quipped, "Never did get that first name!" Maybe things would work out well, and he could be Jim Kirk, space hero.

Her sure to be sardonic response was interrupted by the arrival of a very upset man, who protested, "I don't need a doctor, dammit, I am a doctor!" The brusque ensign in charge of seating was having none of it. She continued above his protests, "Sir, sit down, or I will make you sit down." He replied, "I was sitting down, in the bathroom, with no windows! I suffer from aviophobia, which in case you don't understand big words, means fear of flying!" The ensign sighed, pushed the man down into the seat next to Jim, and pulled the safety bar down over his head, then sauntered off. Jim envied her grace in handling the situation. The disheveled man looked at Jim and said, "I may throw up on you." Jim thought that was a particularly novel greeting, and replied with "I wouldn't worry, these shuttles are perfectly safe, Starfleet's been using them for a while."  
"Don't pander to me, kid. One little crack in the hull, and your blood boils in thirteen seconds." The man launched into a frankly impressive monologue about the dangers of space travel; it was enough to make Jim think twice about his decision. He managed to butt in just enough to say, "You do realise Starfleet operates in space, right?"  
His neighbour looked at him balefully, and said, "Well, I got nowhere else to go. Ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce; all I got left is my bones."  
Jim knew the feeling, or something like it. Both of them were joining Starfleet to fill a void in their lives. They'd get along just fine. He extended his hand. "Jim Kirk."  
"Leonard McCoy," the man replied, holding out a tiny flask. "Drink?"  
Jim took McCoy up on it.


	4. Mischief Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim's life gets shaken up.

Chapter 4

It took three weeks for the emptiness to truly return, this time. Jim supposed that was a record. For the first time in a long time, he'd made a friend, and together, he and Leonard would make Starfleet history. That didn't feel like it was enough, though. Jim was still missing something. It was time for a project. He almost had the gravity reversed in the shuttle simulators when he heard footsteps behind him and panicked, quickly hiding in the access panels. All of a sudden, he felt a wave of peace rush over him, as if everything in the world was going to be okay. Why wouldn't it be okay? She was Jim Kirk, after all. She got up out of the panel to face a bright green woman, who looked at her with a befuddled expression.  
"Wait, what?" the woman said. "I, uh, I thought you were a girl."  
As the wave of peace began to fade, Jim heard one last thought going out with it. _Am I not?_

He looked at the woman accusingly, and through gritted teeth, said with aggression, "What. Did. You. Do."  
This bright green woman looked afraid, and began to ramble. "I, um, well, I'm Gaila. I'm an Orion, but you can probably tell that, stupid, sorry. I kinda have telepathy? Well, sorta telepathy. Born with it, you know? I can kinda loosen your inhibitions, destress you, sense most of your surface thoughts, basic stuff, right? I thought you were a girl! I felt mischief going on when I was walking past, I felt a girl's thoughts, all rebellious and stuff, and I was like, alright, time for Gaila to score with a bad girl, but then you panicked, and I tried to calm you down, and you came out of there, and you're not a girl? And I don't know why I thought you were, and I'm so sorry, please don't tell anyone I used telepathy on you!"

Jim was just now processing the fact that he'd thought he was a girl. Was that her doing? What was going on?  
"Did you change them?" he asked her.  
"What?"  
"Did you … change my thoughts?" he repeated, quieter this time.  
"No, that's not something I can do. All I can do is strip away the outer layers. All those thoughts are yours; they're just a little more honest than you'd usually be."  
"That happiness, the peace, was that mine too?"  
"Some of it. I like to think it's the natural state of every mind."  
Jim felt a twist in his stomach, and hated himself for what he was about to ask. He opened his mouth like a fool, and asked, "Can you do it again?"  
"Wait, what?" replied Gaila.  
"Can you do it again. Make me think I'm a girl."  
"I, uhh, I think you made you think that? All I did was stop you lying to yourself."  
"Can you do it again?"  
"I guess, why? Do you want me to?"  
Jim's stomach twisted a little bit more, but he had to know what was going on. "Do it."  
A second after those words formed in his mouth, he felt it again, that peaceful wave of warmth.  
Her mind, usually so clouded, almost neurotic in keeping itself occupied, felt somehow bigger. Like she'd kept herself locked up in a corner before. She opened her mouth to speak. "Wow, this is something else, Gaila," she said softly. Was her voice always so low? She supposed it had been. She also knew that she'd been asking the wrong question. "Gaila, why would I think I was a man?"  
The Orion girl was shocked at that question. "I really don't know, Jim Kirk. Are you … are you not?"  
Jim, confused as she ever had been, replied, "I don't think so. Okay, dial it back, I'm ready."  
Gaila released her hold on Jim's mind, and waited.  
It took a moment for Jim to think. She kept thinking. Her mind running in circles, back and forth, until Gaila chimed in. "You okay there? Your brain feels like a cyclone."  
"Actually, I have so many questions I don't know where to begin. Is this real? Am I allowed to feel this? Why haven't I known before? Can I make all this go away? Are there other people like me out there? What does that even mean, like me, what am I like?"  
Gaila interrupted her before she could think herself to death. "Jim, slow down, you're still here. I, well, I don't actually know. Any of those things. I know that the Orions have something like that, but I don't know about humans. I'd imagine so, though. I want to help you, God, I'm so sorry I fucked with your head like this, but I don't know how. Do you know any human doctors that might be willing to help?"  
Jim laughed and said, "I just might know a guy."

Leonard "Bones" McCoy was having a normal day. Too normal, he thought to himself. Almost every day, something absolutely bizarre happened at Starfleet Academy, and almost every day, Jim was involved. That boy was full of ability, and someday, Bones would get him to use it the right way instead of these self-destructive mischief sprees. Proving that coincidence was bullshit, Jim burst into his quarters, an Orion girl in tow. Bones set down his cup of coffee; he knew that whatever was about to happen would probably interfere with his peaceful, grumpy coffee ritual.  
"Jim, you can knock sometimes, you know. And miss, I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure."  
The Orion girl, a chipper look on her face, said "Gaila. You must be Leonard!"  
Before he could respond, Jim had grabbed his shoulders, squaring the two of their faces in each other's vision.  
"Bones. Bones, I'm a goddamn girl. I'm a woman, Bones, or I'm pretty sure I am. She got in my head, and I was lying to myself, and Bones, I'm a girl, and I don't know what to do. The hell do I do, Bones?"  
Leonard looked at his friend's clearly distressed face, and said, "You take a nap. You're hyperventilating, Jim. Lay on my couch, and relax, and when you wake up, we'll talk."  
Jim started to protest, but then said "Okay, you're right. But we are going to talk."  
Bones was taken slightly aback at this; he'd already gotten the hypo into his hand to sedate Jim in case his friend refused. As Jim went into the other room, Leonard turned to Gaila, picked up the coffee cup, and said, "So spill the beans."

As Gaila recounted the events of the morning from her perspective, McCoy listened intently. He'd been aware of Jim's plan to modify the shuttle simulators, but not about the rest. As Gaila described Jim's reactions, he couldn't help but laugh. It was so, so very Jim to have that level of inward ignorance. God, what a trip. Bones had met some trans people, he had a cousin out in Mississippi, but hadn't really thought of Jim that way. Made some sense though; he loved the times when Jim had the spark in his (her? that'd be something to get used to) eye, but he also knew that Jim was prone to this numbness in between self-destructive streaks. He'd counseled her to seek a therapist, but Jim had insisted she was fine. Well, this time Jim was going to talk to someone, even if it was just him. This would be a big shakeup to the kid's mind, and if she wanted to do anything about it, a big shakeup to her body too. Either way, this would be something he would not let her just brush off.

"Gaila, I'm gonna ask you a big favor," said McCoy, "and you don't have to accept but it'd be damn fine of you."  
"Okay, doctor, what do you need?"  
"Jim's gonna be goin' through a rough patch. Now I can tough-love her, give her the ass-kickin' kind of encouragement, but someone needs to be there for her on the other side too. I ain't much of a nurture type."  
"You want me to be her friend?"  
"Yeah, that's about what I'm askin'."  
"I think I can do that."  
"Well, she'll be out for another hour at least, and she's perfectly safe with me for now. I don't suppose you'd be willing to come around for dinner tonight? By then I'll have had the chance to chat with her, maybe calm her down a little bit."  
"1800 work?"  
"Sure, Gaila," the doctor replied in his southern drawl, "That'll do it."

She got up and left the room, and Leonard went back to his peaceful grumpiness, albeit with much colder coffee. This would be some kind of damned fool adventure, the exact sort of thing he'd known would happen when he joined Starfleet. He had hoped it would be something alien, though, instead of something so dramatically … human. He didn't even know what he'd cook for dinner. Heh. Maybe he'd rope Jim into helping cook. The price of passing out on his couch.

As a couple hours passed, Jim woke up and tried to sneak out the door while Bones was engrossed in his slate.  
"Jesus, Jim, how old do you think I am?" the doctor asked sardonically. "I can see just fine, kid."  
"Well, I'd figured that I had been in your way enough today, and you've got a lot on your plate already."  
Leonard McCoy got a peculiar grin on his face. "You know, Jim, I don't reckon I do have enough on my plate tonight. You've been an official guest of the McCoy household, and you know what that means?"  
Jim groaned. "I'm staying for dinner?"  
McCoy grinned even harder. "You're cooking dinner. Fried catfish, mashed potatoes, and asparagus, just like back home."  
Jim scratched her head and asked "I don't have a choice, do I?"  
"Nope, you sure as hell don't!"  
"Alright, and I suppose you want to be my therapist while we're at it."  
Bones went to his cupboard, grabbed a bottle of bourbon and a couple of glasses, and said, "In a manner of speaking."


	5. Lady's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim gets a glimpse of what family feels like.

Chapter 5

Jim was better at cooking than you'd expect from a genius-level repeat offender. People underestimated her in a lot of ways, of course, but none so much as cooking. She'd always enjoyed putting good music on, getting out her pans and knives, doing something with her hands, and making delicious food. She'd also always enjoyed drinking with her friend of the week. But this time, she had a sinking feeling that wouldn't go away, a sort of anxiety over the fact that she'd told Bones and he hadn't said anything yet. He was just standing there, looking at her patiently, sipping his whiskey. She'd gotten half an onion chopped before the tension was too much, and she looked at Leonard and asked, "What?" Bones laughed, took another sip, and said, "A girl, huh? That must be fuckin' your head up six ways from Sunday, eh, kid?" Jim continued her silence. "Well, tell me about it, Jim, I'm not gonna judge ya." Jim responded. "I'm not even sure yet, to tell you the truth, Bones. That Gaila girl got in my head, and now I think there must have been something there all along. But you never know, what if it's all bullshit? What if I'm just a guy?" Leonard looked at her and asked, "Do you want to be? Just a guy?" Jim replied, "Not particularly."  
"Well, do you want to be a girl, then?"  
"Yeah, of course, who wouldn't? Doesn't mean I can just be one."  
"Why not? You're gonna be a starship captain, aren't you?"  
"That's the plan."  
"And you're becoming one because you want to?"  
"Yeah, but that's not the same thing as being a woman, Bones, and you know it."  
"What if it was?"  
Leonard grabbed a handful of asparagus, placed it on his oiled baking sheet, and put it in the oven. "What if there was a button, and if you pressed it, you'd have a transporter accident, and rematerialize as a woman? Would you press that button?"  
Jim said without hesitation, "Yes."  
"Too bad, you're not allowed to. You've got to be a man, forever."  
Jim took a moment, chopping onions with a bit more force than strictly necessary, and said quietly, "Yeah. I know. Thanks for the reminder."  
McCoy walked up and put his hand on Jim's arm. "Easy, kid." She looked up at him, with tears in her eyes. "Hey, it's okay. It's a leading question, kid. I'm poking you, trying to get you to take a good look at your own feelings. That button, Jim? It's real. It's something you can do tonight, if you want. Not instantly, of course; for your safety, it's designed to go slowly, give you time to adapt. As your doctor, though, I highly recommend you take some time, and read this. It's called gender transition. It's safe, it's reversible if you change your mind, and it's a real thing you can actually do."  
Jim had finished the last of the onion, and quickly discovered Bones's slate pressed into her hands. McCoy looked at her, with his trademark sardonic grin, and said, "Doctor's orders, kid. I'll finish dinner."  
She took the slate, started to look through the information Bones had given her, and drifted back to one of the couches, engrossed. By the time she looked up, it was 1820, and Bones and Gaila were sitting at the table, eating and talking. She walked over to the table, smacked Leonard on the head, and said, "You didn't tell me that dinner was ready." He laughed, got up, and served Jim a plate of fresh food. "Sit down, kid, have a meal. Lord knows you need it." Gaila chimed in, "This is really good, Jim, you've got to try some. How did the research go? Do you think you'll do it? Be a girl?"  
Jim responded, "Yeah, I think I am. After I eat, though." She ended that last part with a bit of a wink. She enjoyed the dinner; catfish a la McCoy was always a pleasure. She also took some time to rib Gaila about the whole ordeal, which the girl took in good spirit. Most of her questions, though, were directed to Leonard, whom she interrogated about the details of transition as it pertained to her.  
"So how much of a change will it be each session?"  
"Almost none. The transporter-based therapy only slightly alters your bone structure. The majority of the work is long and slow, through the hormonal replacement process."  
"So I've got to get hypos?"   
"Regretfully, no. I know how you hate hypos. I had something more interesting in mind."  
"Does this mean I can't be in Starfleet?"  
"Don't be ridiculous, kid. Only an absolute moron would let someone's gender influence whether they could join Starfleet."  
"Will I need to keep up with the hormonal therapy forever?"  
"Yeah, kid, you will. You'll get used to it, though."   
"How long would it take to get started?"  
"About an hour."  
"Do it. With me, tonight."  
Bones looked her in the eye and said, "Thought you'd never ask." He pulled up some forms on his slate, and started explaining to Jim what each form did, or meant. The first one was simple; a consent form to be treated. Jim signed it with a wink. The second one was more daunting, however. As her eyes saw the large "STARFLEET ACADEMY DECLARATION OF GENDER FORM" printed on the top of the form, she had a small panic. She looked back at McCoy and asked him, "Do I have to do this one too? Right now? What if I change my mind? What if I'm not really a girl? What does it mean to file one of these with the Academy? Will people even accept that? I don't look like a girl." Bones caught her before she started another sentence, and tried to calm her down. "Hey, whoa there, kid. I know. It's a tough decision. No, you don't have to do that one right now. But you should save it, because I have a feeling at some point you're going to want to. As far as if you change your mind, if you're not really a girl, everything we're doing is completely reversible. Nobody is going to stop you from going back, or going forward; and they'll certainly think no less of you if you do. And yes, Starfleet has some really great policies in place about supporting people with variant genders. You file this, say to the Admiralty that you're a woman, and without hesitation, you'll be treated as one by the Fleet. There'll always be a few bad apples, but your instructors and your fellow cadets should all treat you with respect and dignity as a woman. As far as looking like a girl, if you're a girl, you look like one to me. Cause you look like Jim Kirk, and if Jim Kirk is a girl, then you look like a girl."

Jim pushed that form aside, and saw the next one, and freaked out even more.  
"BONES! A change of name? I have no idea what kind of girl name I want! Come on, doc, you're putting so much on my plate, please! I don't need to do this! Do I need to do this?"  
The doctor's facial expression softened; he realised that Jim was right. He was putting a lot on her plate. He thought about how to respond for a moment, and then said, "Jim, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I don't mean to pressure you. You don't need to change your name, or declare a gender, or do anything official, if you don't feel ready. You can do all of this at your pace, or even not at all if you don't want to."

Jim looked at the doctor and decided she'd keep her streak of honesty going. "It's not that I don't want to do any of these things. It's just that I have two different feelings racing around my head right now. I feel like shit in both directions. Part of me says that I can't do any of this, because I don't deserve it. That I can never earn being a woman. I'll always be a pretender. The other part says I can't afford to not do any of this. Because this all feels right, and thinking about being a man forever feels so wrong. I just don't know what to do."  
Gaila came over, and started to use her telepathy to calm Jim's mind. She took Jim's head in her hands and said, "Hey, Kirk. Snap out of it. I know it seems impossible. But you're the kind of girl that does the impossible. Besides, if you die from the overthinking, and the stress, we'll never get to see the fourth-years react to your simulation modifications. You can do this. We're here for you; you don't have to do any of it alone. Please, just lean on us, and we'll prop you up." Jim had closed her eyes during the panic attack, and she opened them up tearfully, and mouthed the words "Thank you" silently.  
Leonard took a moment, let Jim regain her composure, and picked up his slate. "What do you say, Jim? Still up for heading down to my office and getting started? Promise, no commitment, just help." Jim looked back at him, wiped her eyes, again, and said, "Let's go. I think I'm ready." McCoy gestured to the door of his quarters, ushering the other two through, and followed them out.


	6. No-Win Scenario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim's bonds are tested.

Starfleet Psychiatric Record 572928410

Classified: CONFIDENTIAL

Patient: Kirk, James T.

 

Session 1: Audio Log

 

"Morning, Jim. I'm glad to see you came."

"I kinda had to, right?"

"That's never had any bearing on you doing things before, and you know it."  
"Well, I trust you, Bones."  
"Let's get started, then."

"What, did you want me to talk about my mother?"

 

[DATA CORRUPTED]

 

Session 2: Audio Log

"Did you know there's a monument to the _Kelvin_?"

"No, Jim, can't say as I have."

"It's outside Cochrane Hall, in the little garden there. It's kinda tasteful, you know? A little statue, list of the dead, the whole thing."

"Do you visit it often?"

"Every morning. To talk to him."

"And what do you say? To your dad?"

"That's the funny thing, Bones. I never manage to say anything at all."

 

[FILE INCOMPLETE]

 

Session 9: Audio Log

 

"You changed uniforms. It suits you, Jim."

"Yeah, I figured it was about time. Nerve wracking, though."

"You've pulled some of the most dangerous stunts I've ever heard of, kid, and wearing a uniform that shows your curves is what terrifies you?"

"No. What scares me is how other people will react."

"Mostly, Jim, I imagine they'll be stunned. You really do look good."

"Yeah. Mostly."

 

[DATA CORRUPTED]

 

Session 13: Audio Log

 

"Big day today, Jim, you ready?"

"Oh, the test?"

"The impossible test."

"Nothing's impossible, Bones. Simply difficult."

"Nobody's ever passed the _Kobayashi Maru,_ Jim. Nobody."

"Not yet."

 

[FURTHER DATA REDACTED BY ORDER 51.725.018389223.KJT21]

 

Jim had the whole thing mapped out. She was going to be the first person in Academy history to beat their much-vaunted "no-win scenario." Her plan was simple: take the test once, find the weak point, and do it again, this time making it count. She had her randomly-selected cadets around her, they sealed up the bridge simulator, and suddenly they were on the border of the Klingon Neutral Zone. 

"Distress call coming in, Captain," said the cadet at the communications console. "A class 3 neutron fuel carrier, registered as the _Kobayashi Maru_ , out of Saturn. They've had a critical engine failure. They'll be dust in the next hour." 

Kirk turned to her. "How many souls aboard?" 

"58, Captain."

"Right. Alter course to intercept, and alert Medical to prepare for incoming evacuees in cargo bay 2." 

Her tactical officer interjected. "Captain! The _Maru_ 's engine failure caused them to drift off course. They're on the Klingon side of the zone, sir. We're forbidden by treaty to get within transport range."

"Ma'am, ensign. Not a sir. Are there any Klingon vessels in the area?"

"No, s- ma'am. No sign of any Klingons, though they may be cloaked."

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do. Tactical, how long would it take to tractor the _Maru_ back to our side?"

"3 hours, Captain."

"Damn. Keep our shields down, and run the transporters as hot as they'll go. Comms: On all frequencies, in Klingon, broadcast the following: 'This is the Federation starship _Ticonderoga_ , on a humanitarian mission. We come in peace, and will depart immediately upon the successful rescue of our disabled vessel. Please do not interfere in this mission'. "

 

The entire bridge crew raced to their tasks as the _Ticon_ got into transport range. As the cargo bay reported their first rescues, three Klingon birds of prey decloaked, and they weren't up for talking. They immediately started firing on the _Ticon_ , and several bridge consoles went up in sparks as they were hit. Jim felt something warm at the back of her neck, and immediately a flash of light filled her vision, slowly fading to black. As she started to lose consciousness, she heard voices echoing from somewhere far away. "Kirk! Cadet Kirk! Stop the simulation now!"

 

She drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, catching glimpses as she went. Medics fussing over her. The whine of a transporter. A sickbed. Then, nothing. Pure blackness.

 

She awoke with a start, staring at an unfamiliar white ceiling. A voice right out of Georgia called out, "Hey there sunshine! Welcome back to the land of the living, kid. You had everyone worried for a while there." Jim blinked slowly, then looked over to see McCoy walking towards her from his desk at the other end of the sickbay. "Bones? What… what happened?"

"Easy, Jim. Don't move your neck too much. A plasma conduit burst and nearly sliced your head off. You're lucky you weren't sitting properly, or it would have. You'll be the first person I've ever seen get saved by bad posture." Bones' grin made Jim laugh weakly, and it felt like getting stabbed. She winced and said, "If they didn't want me sitting sideways, they shouldn't have made it more comfortable than sitting forward. They find out what caused it?" Leonard's grin suddenly seemed hollow. "Fleet Security is looking into it. Some of them think it was an accident, or poor maintenance. A couple think it was intentional. I'm sure they'll have questions for you as soon as you're able to answer them." Jim was shocked. She couldn't think of anyone who wanted to hurt her. The very thought of it made her feel numb. "Is it because of this?" she asked, gesturing to herself with her hand. "Was it because I'm like this?" The doctor took her hand in his own and said, "No. Jim, it's not your fault. Especially if it was because you're trans. If someone can't handle that, for whatever reason, that's on them. You're a damned good kid, Jim. It's not on you." Jim wiped a tear from her eye with her other hand, as McCoy gently squeezed the hand he held. He mumbled, "If I knew who did this, I'd have half a mind to kill them myself."

 

A voice called from the entrance to sickbay, oddly formal. "That course of action, doctor, would be highly inadvisable." A young man in a Starfleet uniform walked over to the two of them; he had pointed ears and the stereotypical Vulcan haircut. "Cadet James Kirk?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. How can I help? Jim hoped the Vulcan wouldn't notice the wince as she attempted a salute, but she knew it was probably a false hope.

"I am Commander Spock. The _Kobayashi Maru_ simulation is my responsibility, and I believe that it may have been deliberately modified in order to harm you. I may require your assistance in order to bring justice to the perpetrator."

Bones interjected. "You're not Fleet Security, Commander; why not leave it to them?"

"Fleet Security has dismissed my concerns, Doctor. They believe the incident was purely coincidental."

Jim looked at him with curiosity. "Why are you investigating it on your own, then, sir? If they've already ruled out sabotage, why continue with that assumption?"

Spock arched his right eyebrow. "I will not allow a student under my supervision to come to harm."

"What do you need from me, then, sir?"

"Do you have any enemies, Miss Kirk? Anyone that would seek to harm you?"

"No, sir, unless you count my stepdad and the Higher Courts of Iowa."

"Ah. Your penchant for minor crime and vandalism has been noted. In fact, there have been several such incidents since you joined the Academy, in none of which a suspect has been named. Would you perhaps be able to shed some light on those incidents, Cadet?"

Jim's face brightened at the question, forming a lopsided grin. As if reading from a script, she said, "Under Section 5 of the Federation Charter, I exercise my right to refuse to testify against myself," adding a belated "Sir." as an afterthought.

"That is a highly illogical course of action, Cadet, as this is not a disciplinary hearing, and the information I seek may well prevent another attempt on your life. I would advise you to cooperate."

Jim thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright, sir, I'll play ball. At the beginning of the semester, I switched the gravity in some of the shuttle sims. I may also have changed some of the lecture presentations slightly, added some flair to them."

Spock didn't show emotions, of course; he was Vulcan; but Jim could have sworn she saw the commander's eyes sparkle, just a little bit. "Would that flair have taken the form of drawings depicting the lecturers in compromising situations?"

"Yes, sir. It would have."

McCoy burst out laughing. "I should have known that was you. I thought Commander Merrimack was going to explode, Jim. That was quality work, kid. Quality work."

Spock simply said, formal as always, "Thank you, Cadets, for your assistance. In the event of any developments, please contact me. Live long and prosper." He made the _ta'al_ with his hand, and was surprised when Jim returned the gesture.

"Peace and long life."

Spock turned briskly and walked out of the room, as Jim closed her eyes and tried to get some more rest.

 

When she opened her eyes, Gaila was sitting next to her bed, and Jim couldn't help but smile. "Hey, Gaila." "Morning, Jim!" the Orion girl said, and Kirk was full of happiness and comfort. She knew, though, that this wasn't the appropriate emotional climate for someone who had just had an attempt on her life. She reached out toward Gaila's hand and smacked her on the wrist. "Stop that," she said, unable to resist adding "you goober!" to the end. Gaila stopped her telepathic comfort, but started giggling. "Goober? Jim Kirk, what in the universe is a goober?" Jim's face was suddenly flush. "I don't know why I said that. You really shouldn't mess with my brain like that."

The Orion stopped laughing. "I'm sorry, Jim. I just wanted to cheer you up, to be there for you, cause you needed something besides stress."

Jim gave her her trademark smile. "I appreciate it, Gaila. Now's just not the time; right now I have to focus on finding the person who did this to me, so they can't try again."

"Wait, did this? Try again? You mean it was intentional?"

"We think so, but Security isn't so sure. Until we know, I'd rather keep it quiet and play it safe, just in case."

Gaila drew her friend into a hug, and the two women just held each other for a while. Jim got that peaceful feeling back, without the telepathic assistance this time. She had a sudden urge to run her fingers through Gaila's hair, and so she did. "Can you… stay with me for a while, Gaila? Until this whole thing is gone? I could really use some help not breaking down right now," Jim confessed.

Gaila smiled. "Of course, Jim. I'm all yours."

 

The doctors eventually cleared Jim, and sent her back to her quarters with strict instructions to "take it easy." She did so, and found herself lying on the bed with Gaila, simply feeling safer in each other's presence. Jim almost forgot in those few moments that there could be someone out there plotting to kill her. Almost. "You'll make it through this, Jim," Gaila said, no doubt responding to Jim's thoughts. "If there is a murderer out there, they'll get caught." Gaila returned Jim's gesture from earlier, running her fingers through Jim's blonde hair, and softly said, "You'll be okay. You're safe with me."

After a while, they realized that "taking it easy" could only go so far. They still needed to eat, and there were still classes to attend, and so they got to it. At first, Jim was paranoid to a fault. She checked every corner, every door, couldn't walk 20 steps without glancing over her shoulder. A day went by, though, and another, and another, and the edge started to dull. She talked to Spock, who informed her that he had found no new leads, and was even considering that it could in fact have been an accident. Jim's incessant paranoia had dulled to simple jumpiness. Gaila being there helped, Jim reflected. Not because of her empathic powers, but because she seemed to genuinely enjoy Jim's company, and Jim certainly enjoyed hers. She wondered if anything could ever really come of it, or if Gaila would eventually regret being close to such a high-maintenance person. This drew out a deep sigh from Jim, deeper than her voice usually went. She had a brief felling as if someone was watching her, and not in a good way. She decided to ignore this latest upwell of paranoid thoughts, and continued to walk back to her quarters. She and Gaila had different class schedules that night, and so Jim walked back alone. She was approached by a young cadet with a smile on his face, who called out to her. "Cadet Kirk, right? My dad served on the _Kelvin_ , it's an honor to meet you!" She was caught off guard, and didn't really want to talk, but something in her said it'd be rude to just blow the other cadet off.

"The honor's all mine. My dad's the one who saved all the lives; I didn’t have anything to do with it. Hell, I never even met him," she said, trying to end the interaction there. The young man was unfazed, though, responding with, "What's it like, not growing up with your dad?" She had had enough. She looked at him with a tired expression and said, "I'd really rather not talk about it. I've got to get going, anyway." The other cadet smiled. "Sure, sure, see you around!" and waved as she turned around to go. Jim hadn't even taken two steps before she felt a hypo at her neck, and the world faded into darkness again.


	7. Knockin' on Heaven's Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim wakes up and finds an ordeal waiting for her.
> 
> MAJOR CONTENT WARNINGS  
> Transphobia, violence beyond Star Trek norms
> 
> I'm sorry it's so dark, y'all. But rest assured, there's light at the end of our tunnel.

James Kirk opened her eyes. The environment around her was unfamiliar, and as she tried to move, she realized she was restrained to a chair. Her mind started racing off the tracks with possibilities, until she noticed that her shoulder cuff was missing.

The loss of the device Bones had built to help her transition made her more upset than her apparent abduction, and the anger focused her. She called out into the emptiness. "Really? Tying me up in a dark room? That's pretty cliched, don't you think? Couldn't kill me the first time, huh? It's okay, I couldn't ever manage it either."

Her words fell on silent walls. There was no response. The room did have a background hum, but it seemed completely deserted. She figured her captor was probably listening somewhere, though, so she started loudly singing awful songs in the hopes of getting at least some response. Jim's mind eventually lost track of the time as she fell silent. All she knew is that she'd started to feel hungry at some point, which was very helpful, and exactly what she needed to be happening right now. She tried to ignore the feeling creeping up in her stomach, to focus on her situation and how to escape it.

After another seemingly interminable stretch of time, she heard the hiss of an opening door behind her, and smelled something delicious in the air. Her captor walked into the room from behind her, carrying a tray of food and a chair, and pulled up a box to rest the food on before setting up his chair across from Jim. She glared at him as he started to slowly eat.

"Seriously, are you getting every single one of your moves from a list of terrible cliches? You're not even good at being a murderous bastard," she said, hoping to sound defiant. As the words left her mouth, though, she could hear her voice, and defiance had given way to desperation. Her captor laughed. "Jim. Jimmy. James. Can you imagine? If your dad were here? I can just see the look on his face. Man, you'd be such a disappointment. I bet he'd regret saving you that day." He looked her in the eye with a twisted smile as he continued, "If your dad could see you today, he'd definitely know his last act was wasted." Jim couldn't form a verbal response to this, but she growled at him, low and ferocious. "Ooh, did I hurt you there? Poor little boy, out of your depth in a world of your betters," he said with a smirk. She could feel something that hadn't happened to her in a while; suddenly she wasn't in her body so much as she was piloting it remotely. She made herself look up at the man who smiled at her pain; made herself ask the only question that mattered. "Why?" she said, the tears streaming down her face. "Why?" her body repeated. Her captor laughed harder. "Oh, James, James, James. Why? As if you didn't know. Let's start with the basics. You, of course, know who I am." Jim shook her head, and her captor seemed almost confused. "I am Cana Arcturus, son of Jex Arcturus. I _was_ the crown prince of Tandor V, until we gave up our monarchy to join your vaunted Federation. But even without our political power, our family is pure." His confident tone started to falter. "We stayed pure. We weren't weak, like the commoners. We weren't degenerate, like the criminals and scum. We were strong." He paused for a moment. _"I_ wasstrong. Until you."

Jim was thoroughly confused, but before she could interject, Arcturus kept going, raising his voice. "You tricked me. You mock me. You ruined me!" His voice was beyond control as he continued to yell. "I saw you and was enraptured. You were radiant! Beautiful! A flawless woman! I desired you!" At this, Jim's face contorted into disgust, as Cana went on. "Until I found out that you're no woman at all. That I, Cana Arcturus, had been deceived into desiring a _man_!"

Jim couldn't help herself; something inside her just broke, and suddenly the entire situation seemed funny. She started to laugh, from the bottom of her lungs, a hearty laugh that filled the room. Arcturus slapped her across her face, and even that didn't stop her laughing. He screamed, "What could you possibly find amusing?!" Jim tried to pull herself together, to stop her maniacal, ragged cackle. After a few moments, she managed to quiet herself enough to form words, which she immediately turned on Arcturus. "You're trying to kill me, because you think I turned you gay? All of this, all the consequences, and you _will_ get caught- this is not subtle- and all for what? To defend your heterosexuality? When you're spending the rest of your life on a penal colony, will it be worth it to you? Not to mention, I'm not a man! Your whole quest is wrong!"

"I'm not going to kill you, James," said Cana, "Killing you wouldn't be enough."

Jim interrupted, saying "Plus, you couldn't finish the job!" in a singsong voice. Cana's control faltered again as he roared, "I'll do worse than kill you. I'm going to break you." He reached out to touch her face. "You're going to wish I'd killed you when I'm done; nobody shames the Arcturus line. Nobody." Jim said, "I have nothing more to say to you. Do your worst." Cana's twisted smile returned, wider this time. "Oh, you can count on it, James. In the meantime, eat up. Can't have you dying on me." He picked the tray of food and set it on Jim's lap, chuckling as he left. Jim tried to move in a way that let her eat, and though it hurt her ankles and wrists, she could just barely do it if she strained the restraints.

It was another interminable silence before Cana returned; he brought a box with him and sat down in his chair. He looked his captive over for a moment, laughed, and said, "It's time we got started, dear James. At first, I didn't know where to begin, but I've been inspired. You're a deception, Mister Kirk. And I'm going to cut away the lies." At this, he took a knife out of his box, and he walked around behind Jim. He started to cut her hair. "Such lovely locks," he said conversationally. "It's almost enough to pull off this grand lie of yours all on its own." He casually pressed the blade harder as he said the words "grand lie", then swept it around from the back of Jim's head to the front, leaving a trail of blood and pain. An inhuman scream escaped Jim's throat as the knife cut her right ear. "Ah, there we go. That sound is much more honest, dear James. More authentic. Nobody will hear that and think you're worth desiring."

Jim couldn't focus well enough to hear Cana's mockery. Her head was spinning, not to mention bleeding profusely. Cana noticed her starting to slump, and he grabbed a hypo from the box and injected her. "Coagulant. Can't have you bleeding out on me; we're nowhere near finished." He stepped around in front of her and appraised his handiwork. "Hmm. A good start, but we have so much more to do, don't we, dearest James?" He rummaged around in his box, and brought out a curved instrument. "They say the eyes are a window into the soul, James. Have you ever heard that?"

Her reply was another inhuman scream. "No, I can't imagine you have, degenerate that you are. Do you think you have a soul?" He grabbed Jim's head roughly, and stared deeply into her eyes. "You see, I'm of the belief that the only thing your eyes are a window into is more deception." He held her head steady as he took the curved instrument in his other hand and slowly destroyed Jim's right eye. Jim didn't even have the lung capacity to scream this time; what came from her throat was more of a gurgling noise. Cana stood back again and chuckled. "Maybe you have a point, James. You're not a man at all. Not a man, not a woman, you have no place in this world." She couldn't see him; her entire field of vision was white with pain. She could hear, however, what her mind wasn't lucid enough to process as a furious Vulcan roar, followed by a quick and efficient fight. She felt her restraints being released, and she could hear a sentence being spoken into her ear. "Everyone has a place in this world, Cadet. _Everyone_." She felt and heard the humming of an emergency transport, and the world was disturbingly warm as it faded away again.


	8. Walk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim deals with the aftermath of her experience.  
> Credit to Foo Fighters for the title.

 Jim looked at herself in the mirror briefly before heading out. She didn't do a lot of that, these days. Federation medical technology was quite good, but whatever Cana had injected her with had ensured that a dermal regenerator wouldn't get rid of the scar. She could have the skin grafted over surgically if she wanted. She could get a new eye if she wanted. She could do a lot of things, if she wanted. It's just that Jim Kirk was having a hard time actually wanting anything right now. She wanted to want things. She wanted to pick up all the pieces, one by one, and make her life whole again. But instead, Jim found herself going through the motions.

She showered in the morning, got breakfast, went to the Kelvin memorial, and sat there. She didn't say anything, didn't even cry. She walked to class, didn't say anything to Bones or Gaila when she saw them in the hallways. She saw their looks, the way she was hurting them, and tried not to let that hurt her further. She ate her 3 meals a day, performed excellently in all of her classes, did exactly what she was told to. Exactly what she was supposed to. She had had her head completely shaved, as the mishmash of badly cut hair was hardly regulation, but she didn't bother to have it medically regrown, or to maintain it in any way. She figured that eventually, she'd be able to grab the wheel of her life again, but eventually didn't come.

It had been 2 weeks, then two became three and then four. Bones and Gaila had both come by at various points to try and comfort her, and nothing they did made a difference. Bones even brought her a replacement for her shoulder device. It sat on her desk, unused. Jim was looking in the mirror, but she couldn't see anything worth seeing. She put on her uniform, and went where she always went. To the Kelvin memorial. She sat where she always sat. Today, though, she heard footsteps, precise and measured, approaching her.

"May I sit with you, Cadet?" Commander Spock intoned, formal as ever. She couldn't very well refuse him, considering he'd saved her life, so she made a very non-committal grunt. He primly folded his legs and sat next to her, a motion of grace and beauty.

"You, Cadet Kirk, are not Vulcan," said Spock gently, as if he hadn't stated an obvious fact.

"No, sir, I am not," Kirk replied.

"In this instance, I find I would prefer if you simply called me Spock. Would that be acceptable to you, Miss Kirk?"

"If that's what you want, Spock," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"You experienced a life-altering trauma, an event that will in some way shape you as a person, only one month ago."

"You're two for two on obvious facts, there, Spock. ... Sir."

"And yet, in said month, you have not missed a single class since your release from the infirmary. You have not engaged in any acts of rebellion or mischief. You have not," the Vulcan paused for a moment, "attempted to return your body to a state more fitting your identity and personality. You have even returned to wearing the uniform for male cadets."

 _Have I?_ Jim wondered, and when she looked down, she noticed that Spock was right. He continued, "Among my people, it is considered natural to suppress one's emotions. To not allow oneself to feel. We have monastic orders devoted to the practice of Kolinahr, a strict meditation technique that eliminates emotional concerns almost entirely. And yet, even amongst the Vulcans, after such a trauma we bring in our mind healers and help a person to feel. We ensure that they process their feelings properly, because if they do not, even repressed feelings can damage them."

"Are you telling me I should get my head shrunk? Because higher courts than you have tried."

"No, Cadet. I am telling you that you should allow yourself to feel. You must give yourself space to process what has happened to you, or your wounds can never truly heal." Jim unconsciously reached up and touched the scar on her head. "And how do you propose I do that, Spock?"

"I have no scheduled obligations today, Cadet, and I have approved your absence from your classes today. I am no expert in human matters, but I am told that the kinds of humans that vandalize every hull plate of a Constitution-class starship would likely process trauma with the assistance of alcohol and the presence of friends." Jim could swear she saw the Vulcan crack a smile for a moment there.

"They found out about that one, did they?"

"Would you accompany me for such an event, Cadet Kirk?"

Jim found herself not wanting to decline. "Jim," she said. "Call me Jim." The two of them got up and walked around the Academy together, a gesture that caused Jim to feel happy again, for the first time in a while. The two of them ended up going to Bones' place, where the good doctor had already started cooking dinner. He greeted them at the door with a smile on his face. "Spock, welcome, grab a seat and stay a while. Jim, it's good to see you. Hobgoblin talk some sense into you?" he asked, gesturing to Spock. Jim laughed. "That he did, Bones. That he did." McCoy pulled out a chair for Jim at his table, then proceeded to retrieve a bottle of very blue liquid from a cabinet and place it on the table, with three glasses, before sitting down himself. Spock immediately protested, "Doctor McCoy, you cannot possibly be unaware that Romulan ale is illegal within the Federation."

"Of all the-. It's medicinal, Spock. I'll write y'all both a prescription if you really need it," the doctor said, grinning at Spock in a way Jim hadn't seen before. She was getting suspicious; this whole thing seemed rehearsed. She immediately poured herself and Spock glasses, before handing the decanter to McCoy. "So. You're gonna want me to talk about it, aren't you." Jim very intentionally didn't make that a question, but Spock nodded anyway. "What do you want to hear? That it hurt? That it still hurts? That he did it all to me because I'm trans? That I'm not even sure it's worth it? Is that what you're looking for?" She took a sip of the Romulan ale, paused a moment, and then said quietly, "Or did you want something more like, 'I can barely even look at my face in the mirror, because every time I see the scars, I feel it happening again'?" McCoy said, "I'm so sorry, kid," precisely at the same moment that Spock said "All of those would be considered sufficient starting points, yes." The doctor glared at the Vulcan, who immediately added, "And I empathize with your pain."

Jim laughed. Even Vulcans were susceptible to the McCoy death stare. "For every one person that acts on an idea, there are a dozen that have it but won't act," she said after another sip. "I just, he did all those things because I decided to be a girl. Because of me. He was wrong, and I know he was wrong, but somehow it doesn't feel like it. It feels like anyone could snap at me any time, like every step I take I'm putting myself in danger."

"So you're not taking any steps at all. You're not making any choices."

"Yeah. No matter what I do, I lose."

Spock said, "In this case, Jim, I believe the real loss would be in allowing fear to dictate your actions." McCoy nodded. "You know who you are, kid. You can't let yourself lose the way. I know it seems like you can't win, but that's why you're not going through all of this alone. You always have your friends backing you up." Jim thought about it for a few moments, sipping her illicit beverage as she did, and said, "I suppose I do." She kept trying to form the words she wanted to say, but they wouldn't coalesce for some reason.

She couldn't make herself say it - _what if he was right_ \- so instead she folded her arms on the table, lay her head on them, and cried. The tears she hadn't allowed herself to have for a month now wouldn't stop coming. Abruptly, there was a hand on her shoulder, and an arm across her back, drawing her up into a hug. She cried on Bones' shoulder for long enough that her feet were sore, and he kept telling her that it was okay, that she was family. Family. Like that had ever ended well.

The thing about Leonard McCoy was that he had never once lied to Jim. Lied for her, yes, but every word he'd ever told her was true. Jim didn't understand how to respond, because her version of family was saints and villains, George and Frank, and neither of those fit Bones. He was just someone who cared, and Jim was inclined to let him. She wrapped her arms around his in return. "Okay. Family," she whispered back, a whisper being all she could manage. They sat back down and Bones refilled their glasses, and Jim told them the story. It took 3 very proscribed bottles and a lot of patience for them to hear it all, the parts that weren't in the reports, and at the end, McCoy was furious and Spock was completely still. He was the one who spoke first. "You did nothing to earn this. The actions of your assailant are not your fault, Jim. There will be justice; I give you my word." She believed, at the very least, that the Vulcan would do whatever was within his power. That hardly guaranteed justice, but it did bring her some comfort. This whole time, they'd listened to her, and they hadn't been disgusted by her. Hadn't tried to tell her how it was all her fault. Maybe if she kept this up, she'd believe it too.

Bones changed the subject abruptly by bringing out food. Jim had no clue when the doctor had learned to make plo meek soup, but he was damned good at it. The three of them talked like things were okay, like things could possibly ever be okay. She got caught up on months of drama from the medical staff, and to her surprise, Commander Spock joined in as well. Apparently, as a Vulcan, he was the person that most of the faculty consulted to resolve their petty disputes. The two humans in the room found his dry, fact filled delivery hilarious, but it suddenly occurred to Jim that there was something she should probably do. She got up, excused herself, and started to leave. McCoy walked her to his door, and before she left, he gave her a very concerned look until she promised that she'd be right back.

Her quarters were almost empty. More so than she remembered. She took off the male-pattern uniform she was wearing, realizing that it had been quite tight around the chest, and attached the shoulder cuff. The device sealed itself to her skin and she winced as its needles entered her bloodstream. More appropriate clothes and a shower would only take a moment, and it was well worth it. She even picked out one of her own bottles of liquor and after changing (and shaving - had she really let that go for this long?) headed back to McCoy's place.


End file.
